


In the Rabbit Hole

by makingitwork



Series: Stalker Hotch [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Whips, kink sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:15:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hotch shows Spencer his new home</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody actually chases the rabbit

Spencer followed him out of the airport, and even the air of Greece was different. Just like he'd always imagined it, it smelt of ancient, cooked, delicious spices, and summer fruit. The sun was shining brightly as he tugged his suitcase along. He bumped into Hotch when he stopped beside a black SUV and Spencer immediately took note of the licence plate. Hotch chuckled

"What are you thinking so hard about, Spencer?" He asked, opening the boot and taking Spencer's suitcase to put inside. Aaron smiled, he'd been happy the moment they were out of the city, and Spencer knew why, it meant an even less likely chance his team would find him. 

"I like the smell of the air here." The lanky brunette admitted, twisting his watch on his wrist, that lay over his shirt, because the material agitated his skin. Hotch smiled brightly, nodding, as he led Spencer to the passenger seat, bringing out a pair of handcuffs, he cuffed Reid's wrist to the side of the door. Before getting in beside him. 

"I'll roll the windows down for you."

"You aren't afraid I'll scream for help?"

"Will you?" Hotch looked amused, starting the engine and rolling down the windows. 

No. Spencer wouldn't. He looked out of the window, feeling helpless. He should consider himself lucky, Hotch wasn't hurting him. He wasn't holding him for some cruel form of torture. He wanted Spencer to love him wholly and...it was something new, to be wanted to much like that. And Spencer knew it was an illness, an obsession, but it still made him feel special. "You know," Spencer broke the silence about half an hour later "89% of Stalkers, after taking the subject of their obsessions find out that they're not what they wanted. And kill them."

Aaron's hand reached across, to grip Spencer's free one, his hands never leaving the rode. "I'm not 89% of Stalkers. I know exactly who you are, Spencer Reid. I know exactly what to expect. I'm not going to kill you. You're a profiler, you know that."

"I'm not sure what I know anymore. I don't know why I'm not screaming out for help." He admitted, looking down at their intwined hands "I don't know why I'm not disgusted at the touch of a murderer."

Hotch sighed, but said nothing. His thumb rubbing soothing circles on Spencer's palm.

...  
...  
...

The house was beautiful. 

Spencer had to look up in awe, it was large and white with a selection of flowers and ivy growing across it. He could only stare at Hotch removed his handcuffs, and kissed Spencer's red wrist, before leading him inside. 

God.

It was perfect.

A fireplace in the living room, with a large TV and coffee table, the sofa was the exact same make as the one he had at home, with the same cushions, and despite himself, he felt comfortable. The dining room was perfect for large dinner parties, though he doubted they'd be having those. The kitchen, with black marble countertops and wooden facilities was something he'd always wanted. "Did you know," he asked quietly, tracing the pattern of the wood that made up the cupboard beside the fridge "This type of wood is indigenous only to the southern Regions of Athens were the only forest of Bluebell grows?"

"I do now," Aaron grinned, taking Spencer's hand easily. Taking his hand just because he could. He wanted to touch Spencer as much as he could, not hide behind cameras and shadows. Spencer was led to a garden, where he could smell the air and hear the birds, a willow tree in the far corner, that's blue leaves tickled the grass. And then upstairs, and Hotch was ushering Spencer through a door. 

It was a library. The walls were entirely bookshelves that went up straight to the ceiling, so there were four ladders everywhere and a spiral staircase to a second landing. Spencer couldn't help himself, he pulled away from Hotch, heading to one of the shelves, examining the books. The room smelt of paper and it was Spencer's favourite thing in the world. He recognised a few of the books, but there were others, others he wanted to start reading right now. Gosh, he could spend the rest of his life right here. He turned to look at Hotch, voice breaking slightly "Am I allowed to read them?"

The handsome, dark haired man, dressed in a white polo shirt and grey slacks nodded, encouragingly "But not right now, Spence, come on," and he was out of the door. Spencer spent another fleeting moment in the room, taking everything in. There was a burgundy arm chair in one corner, just the right size for him to curl up and read each and every book in here. "Come on, Spence! You have all the time in the world to stay in that room!"

And Spencer bounded out of there, following the sound of Hotch's voice, and freezing, that sickening feeling coming back to his stomach as he realised he was standing in their new bedroom. 

It was beautiful too, yes. A large white bed in the centre, but it was the accessories here and there that made Spencer's stomach coil. Each corner of the bed had a chain, two whips were hanging from the wall, and there was a collection of cock rings resting on the dresser. Numerous gags and dildo's that made Spencer flush were scattered around the clean room. It was a complete contradiction, and he didn't understand why some of his blood ran south. Hotch placed a hand on his shoulder and he jumped. Hotch chuckled gently "I'll buy a few more guns I think, since you responded so well when I fucked you with yours."

Spencer whines, looking around the room. There's a mirror on the ceiling above the bed, massage oils in the bathroom ensuite, the bathtub is big enough for two people and Spencer has a bad feeling Hotch planned it this way. 

"You look nervous again," Hotch called from the other side of the room, and Spencer steps out of the bathroom, to see him resting against the wall beside the whips. Spencer looks at the whips nervously, and Hotch ends his worries "I'll never scar you permanently. You're much too beautiful for that. But I do enjoy a little pain play."

Spencer flushes again, and Hotch's grin looks like that of a predator. He steps forward, body language changing to hunter rather than boyfriend. Which Reid supposes Hotch is now, in the loosest of terms. "A-Aaron-"

"Fuck, I didn't think you'd be in the mood right now, but you are, aren't you? My perfect little bitch." And then Hotch is across the room in a flash, forcing Spencer onto the bed and yep, the restraints on each corner definitely come in hand, because now Spencer's arms are tied high above him, but his legs are free, so that Hotch can pull off his jeans and his pants to reveal his traitorously hard dick. He unbuttons Spencer's shirt, kissing down his torso, before swiping his tongue over Spencer’s dick. "You're too thin, you need to eat more,"

"Sorry," Spencer whispers breathlessly, bucking into Aaron's hands.

…  
…  
…  
It goes like that for a few weeks. Each night, they’d fuck, and fall asleep. In the morning, Aaron made them both breakfast before heading off to work, he had a job as a banker. And Spencer was left alone in the house. 

Hotch told him not to run, said if he did he’d just catch Spencer again and hurt one of his team members. Spencer didn’t run, instead, he read, he cleaned, he went out in the garden, and then with Hotch’s permission, went out and met his neighbours, he picked rare berries, before coming home and making dinner.

Hotch would get back at about 6:00pm, and they’d eat the dinner Spencer prepared, before just being with each other. 

And then some very kinky, rigorous sex, before they were asleep. It was good, and it was nice, and still Spencer hadn’t run out of books to read. He hadn’t even finished the first wall yet. 

But one day, when Spencer was writing notes about the development of the willow tree in the garden, something caught his eye. A small shed in the corner, he’d never gone in there, but with how the light was hitting it, he could see something through the dirty windows, and it wasn’t gardening tools. 

Curiously, setting down his notebook, he wiped his hands on his jeans, heading over the shed. He tried the door, but it was locked, so he did what he’d seen Morgan do a thousand times before- and thinking of Morgan made his heart hurt for a moment. Were they looking for him, his team? He hadn’t even written to them yet! He had to!

The door gave way, but didn’t break, so Spencer stepped inside, and froze.

Pictures of him. Everywhere, all in colour, all incredible quality, and yes he knew Hotch had been a stalker but this was…this was insane. There was a picture of him with Gideon, that was…that years and years ago, how long had this been going on? He’s only started receiving notes about 3 years ago. There was a picture of his drunk kiss with Morgan, a picture of him hugging Garcia and JJ. A picture of him on crutches. 

He stepped forward, and on its own separate board, were fewer pictures, but they were all directly on him, and him alone, more focused on the upper half of his body. The first one in which he’s wearing an ugly red jumper, with short, neat hair tucked behind his ears. The second one, he’s in a sweater vest, with long hair that curls down to his shoulders, it’s messy and makes him look like an insane professor. The third one, he’s wearing a grey shirt, his hair in that ‘boyband’ style that the team had teased him about. 

The fourth one, he’s styled his hair up, in a purple shirt with a purple cardigan, it looks neat and professional, and he thanks his cousin Laura for that, who’d been staying with him. The fifth photo, is pretty much how he looks now. In a waist coat, with a tie, his hair grown into that ‘boy band’ style again, tousled artfully as it falls into his forehead. 

“What are you doing in here?” Comes a cool voice and Spencer whips around, hand instinctively going for his gun, only to realise he doesn’t have one. He steps back, almost stumbling over his own legs in the process as he sees Hotch, the perfect vision of calm. 

“I…I- I…”

“Does this make it more real to you? Does it remind you that I’m a stalker? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Uh…yes to all three?” Spencer managed, swallowing hard

Hotch nods, taking it into consideration. He looks around the room, and Spencer gets the feeling he’s spent a lot of time in here. “I hated it whenever you changed your hair.” He pondered 

“All stalkers hate it when the object of their desire changes in some way.” Spencer helps, but it’s a reflex.

“I killed someone every time you did.” Spencer flinches at that, knowing that his choice of haircuts ended someone’s life. “I think my favourite was when you styled it up. Do you remember? I think you spent more time on your appearance when you were going to the Doctor, you wanted them to see you as someone who couldn’t possibly have a mental illness, am I right?” Spencer said nothing “When you had the CAT scan did, you styled your hair up.”

“Do you want me to start styling it up again?” he whispered, Hotch shook his head;

“Only when we go out in public. It makes you look even younger, and I want to show you off.”

“We’re going out in public?” Spencer asks, somewhat eagerly, because even when he’s allowed out, it’s not very far, and he’s given strict time codes. He’s never been out with Hotch before. 

“I thought we’d go to the theatre. How about that?”

Spencer can only nod eagerly, and take Hotch’s hand when it’s offered. They’re about to leave, when Spencer freezes, stopping Hotch in his tracks, and he points to a picture on the wall. It’s of him, bound to a chair. It’s from when Tobias Hankel abducted him. “How can you have that?” he whispered.

Hotch half smiled, but anger’s visible in his eyes “I was stalking you, Spencer. I saw what happened. Hankel’s lucky you shot him, he got let off easy. If you hadn’t, I would have gone after him and taken him apart piece by piece.” A silence hangs between them and Hotch sounds incredibly guilty “I should have come and stopped it as soon as it happened. But he was filming it, and your team would have seen me. But when he killed you, I came down to the woods to get you. When I saw him revive you.” He laughs hollowly “When you refused to choose. You could have died four times. I’m not sure what I would have done.”

“I was never in any danger, was I?” Spencer whispered “I never have been. You would always have come and saved me.” It’s a harrowing thought, that ever since he’s entered the BAU, someone’s been keeping tabs on him. He’s never truly been in danger. “When did you first start stalking me? How did you find me?”

“Come on, Spencer, I wanna fuck you into the mattress,”

“Aaron…I need to know.”

Hotch leaned forward and cupped Spencer’s dick through his jeans harshly, hissing into his ear “We’re going to fuck now Spencer. Aren’t we?” He twisted his grip slightly and Spencer mewls, hardening

“Y-Yes Sir.”

“Good boy, I love you,” and Hotch kisses him forcefully on the mouth, their tongues dancing, both pushing at each other, Spencer’s hands have a mind of their own as they undo Hotch’s tie, using his grip on it to pull him closer. Hotch has to carry Spencer inside the house because the lanky genius isn’t making it easy not to fuck him in the middle of the garden. 

Spencer thinks he hears the neighbour he met yesterday wolf whistle. 

But all he hears is Aaron.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment?  
> x


End file.
